


Rocket Pop

by ShadowGinger



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Humor, Popsicles, Pre-Canon, Yuuri and Phichit being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8951779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowGinger/pseuds/ShadowGinger
Summary: It had been a sweltering August day in Detroit. So, Phichit brought home popsicles.





	

It had been a sweltering August day in Detroit. It had rained the previous day and the humidity was almost as bad as Hasetsu during the rainy season. Yuuri brushed his sweat slicked bangs away from his face as he waited outside the drug store with his bike. His roommate, Phichit, had said that he’d be only a moment and Yuuri hadn't felt like messing with locking up his bike. Not for a short snack run on the way back to their shared apartment after practice. But, he quickly began to regret his decision, given Phichit was taking forever and that somehow it still felt like 30°C even at nine in the evening. Yuuri was restlessly adjusting his skating bag on his shoulder when the Thai boy finally showed up all smiles with his spoils-- three plastic bags full of junk food, soda and ice cream.

“Celestino is gonna kill you when he finds out you binged after practice.” Yuuri laughed as he takes the heaviest looking bag, the one with the pair of 2-liter bottles of Mountain Dew, and placed it in the bicycle's handlebar basket.

“No, Ciao-Ciao would only kill me if _you_ binged, Mr. It’s-not-a-meal-if-there-isn't-rice~” Phichit teased as he pulled out a king sized package of Reese’s. He ripped into the orange package as Yuuri sputtered, struggling to find a retort for the offence. He finally settled on “That’s because it isn’t!” and Phichit chimed out a laugh and bit into the first of the peanut butter cups, paper and all. Yuuri cringed at bite when he remembered how horrified their American rinkmates looked the first time they tried the candy.

The trip back to the apartment was a 15 minute walk filled with Yuuri talking about the day’s practice as Phichit attentively listened as he pulled his lips over the chocolate covered paper of the cups. Whenever Yuuri got particularly upset over his inability to land his quad sal and stopped walking, Phichit gently reminded him that he bought ice cream and wanted to get home before his Ben & Jerry’s became soup.

 

It was oppressively hot inside the apartment. Phichit quickly ran to the kitchen to save his ice cream from the summer heat, but ended up parking front of the open freezer. Yuuri meanwhile threw open every window in the apartment and even the door to the balcony, hoping to encourage a breeze to come and cool the house enough that they could sleep that night.

Neither person attempted to touch the thermostat in their search of relief, however. Phichit had kept the air conditioning at a very brisk 65°F the first few months they lived together. Bringing the rink back home he had called it. Yuuri had to later call long-distance to explain to his budget-minded father on how they managed to spend $600 on electricity that June and July. Given that Yuuri’s stay in America was being paid for by his _extremely loving_ family and that Phichit liked his roommate, the thermostat had not gone below 75°F in the year since then.

Yuuri laid out on the itchy carpet in the living room, his t-shirt hiked up to his chest. He hoped that the wind would eventually pick up outside and come though the patio door, but it seemed that it was going to be windless evening. He groaned as he stared up at the non-spinning ceiling fan. Any other day, Yuuri would have easily gotten up to turn on the fan, but he had fallen on ice so much that day; getting up seemed like it was inviting soreness that he did not want to deal with just yet.

Luckily for him, Phichit finally was able to pry himself from the open freezer and turned the fan on for the battered Japanese skater. Yuuri tilted his head back to look at Phichit, albeit upside-down and out of focus (his glasses had slid down to his forehead when he looked back). The other boy had a goofy grin on his face and he held two white plastic packages in between his finger. He tossed one of packets to Yuuri before settling on the sofa with his phone.

Yuuri sat up with a start when the cold package landed on his exposed stomach. He sat up with his back to the sofa as he puzzled the contents of the packet. He looked over at Phichit and realized it was one of those red, white and blue rocket pops that the Thai boy had tried a while back. He currently was taking a selfie with the pop, his lips lightly on the red tip. Yuuri held back snort from how ridiculous the pose seemed from his end, but it was Phichit’s selfie that was going on Phichit’s Instagram; Yuuri had no right to pass judgement on how weird it looked.

He opened the package and pulled out the pop by the stick and stowed the wrapper to be tossed later. Yuuri looked at the popsicle for a moment, wondering if he even wanted to eat the thing. Since coming to America, Phichit had gone full native, gorging himself on every weird snack he could find in convenience stores and groceries. However, Yuuri’s palate had not warmed up like his friend’s and while he could handle cherry and lemon flavors, he still could not figure out what blue raspberry was or find it in himself to like it. But it was hot and he caved.

Yuuri put the ice cream in his mouth, enjoying the cool that trickled into his core from the cold syrup. But he nearly choked when he hear an exclamation shouted in Thai. He coughed as he turned to his roommate. The look of horror on Phichit’s face was not lost on Yuuri. It reminded him of the Americans’ expression durning the peanut butter cup incident.

“Yuuri… What was that?” Phichit asked, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed red. Yuuri cocked his head with an angle of his brow, confused as to what Phichit was talking about.

“What was what?” Yuuri asked right back, putting the length of the pop back into his mouth to the point where only the stick was visible.

Phichit made a shrieking noise and pointed at the display.

**“What is that!?”**

_“Hmm?”_ Yuuri hummed around the pop.

 **“Yes that!** **”** Phichit reiterated that it was the fact that his best friend and roommate currently deepthroating a popsicle was what he referring to.

Yuuri pulled the popsicle out of his mouth with an audible pop at the end.

“What? It’s not that big?” He answered as if he didn’t realize what exactly what he was doing.

And Phichit lost it.

 **“It’s not that-!!!** **”** The boy howled as Yuuri started to get visibly flustered and embarrassed. Phichit’s laughter was only quieted when pillow from the sofa landed in his face before Yuuri ran off to his room for the night.

 

The next morning Yuuri found the video all over Twitter and Instagram. It was captioned:

“@y-katsuki beating the heat #itsnotthatbig #deepthroat #rocketpop”

So far it had received 50 thousand views and counting since it was posted 10 hours ago. Yuuri could have died.

 

It was gearing up to be another sweltering August day in Detroit. But it seemed to Yuuri that they would not be any popsicles in his or Phichit’s future to help with the heat. Well, if the nearly full box of rocket pops in the trash was anything to go by that is.

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the last ep, I decided to finish up and post a silly little fic idea I had a couple of weeks ago.
> 
> Un-beta'd so drop me a line if you see any grievous mistakes.
> 
> Tata for now  
>  ~~now to bury self over ep 12~~


End file.
